


The Good Son

by scandalsavage



Series: DC Kinkmeme Fills [3]
Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Alcohol, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Dark Dick Grayson, Dick Grayson Has Issues, M/M, Non-Consensual Somnophilia, Oral Sex, Rough Sex, Self-blaming, Somnophilia, Underage Drinking, Underage Sex, victim rationalizing their rape
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-24
Updated: 2020-06-24
Packaged: 2021-03-03 19:53:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24891112
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scandalsavage/pseuds/scandalsavage
Summary: DC Kink Meme fillDick takes advantage of Jason while he's intoxicatedTeenage Jason decides to be a teenager and go out to a party a few friends are throwing. And many drinks later Jason and his friends are absolutely trashed. Not wanting to drive drunk, nor get into a car with drunk drivers Jason decides to call Dick in hopes he'll help his brother hide his drunken night from Bruce in fear of losing Robin. So, Dick agrees and picks him up. I want Jason to be conscious during the ordeal, but too intoxicated to do anything. I am open to dub-con with hesitational enjoyment from Jason, as well as non-con and Jason being absolutely crushed from the betrayal.Dick drives them to a secluded spot and molests Jason, then fucking his brains out in the back seat.Dick takes Jason home and (not necessary) records himself molesting Jason, fucking him several different ways and cumming deep inside him. I'd love for Dick to use Jason as a flesh light pretty much, leaving Jason with his cum inside of him for when he wakes up.
Relationships: Dick Grayson/Jason Todd
Series: DC Kinkmeme Fills [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1730683
Comments: 24
Kudos: 310





	The Good Son

**Author's Note:**

> Dick is still struggling with being replaced. Jason is drunk, Dick drinks some too. Bad things happen.
> 
> (Finally fucking finished something!)

Despite what most the other kids in his class think, Jason isn’t much of a partier. And it’s not just Robin or trying to make Bruce proud that keeps him fastidiously focused on school and vigilante-ing (in that order). He saw what that shit did to his dad, and he wants no part of it.

Usually, anyway.

But Bruce and Alfred keep telling him “there’s more to life” and that he should make friends amongst his peers. 

Problem is, Jason can’t do that easily. He’s not charming like Bruce and Dick and he’s always been a bit of a loner. Not to mention that he doesn’t have anything in common with the kids at his snotty new school or that they all call him street trash behind his back. 

Still. They’d invited him to a party, and, on a whim, Jason decided to go for the full normal-teen experience. Snuck out and everything. 

The kid who had invited him had squinted, looked him up and down, chuckled and said he didn’t actually expect Jason to show up. 

So Jason drank half the booze and poured the rest down the sink while everyone else was dancing and skinny-dipping. 

Hence his current conundrum. 

How to get home when he can’t even walk straight. 

Bruce is going to kill him. Then fire him.

So he calls the only person he can think of who _might_ take mercy on him.

“You couldn’t have brought the Porsche?” Jason slurs, slipping into the pile of rusted, junk parts Dick calls a car. 

His predecessor grins at him. “You’re a mile away from the house, none of your “friends” would see it anyway.”

Jason scowls at the way Dick says “friends”, all knowing and mean with his fingers curling into quotations in the air. He hates that even when Dick is being a jerk, his heart still jumps at the fact that the older boy is paying attention to him at all.

He twists the cap off the bottle of expensive whiskey he didn’t have the heart to throw out and takes a couple long swigs before wiping his mouth and turning away from the first Robin to watch the Gotham-Bludhaven bridge slide by.

“Sorry,” Dick says, kindly if a little begrudgingly. “That was cruel and uncalled for. I had a long day.”

Without looking away from the window, Jason gives a stiff little shrug. “’s true. No big deal.”

They lapse into a brief silence, during which it finally registers to Jason that they’re on the bridge.

“The Blud?”

“Didn’t think you’d want to risk waking Bruce up stumbling back into the manor. When he calls tomorrow, I’ll tell him I meant to leave him a note that I was kidnapping you but forgot.”

It takes another long, quiet moment for Dick’s words to sink under the floaty, hazy feeling and pretty streaks of lights going by. But eventually the fact that Dick is willing to take the heat for Jason sneaking out gets through.

“Thanks Dickie.”

A hand drops onto his thigh, just above the knee, heavy, warm, and big. Jason stares at it, blinking stupidly, trying to figure out where it came from because Dick has never touched him like that and his subconscious was quietly certain that Dick _would_ never touch him like that, and Jason’s intoxicated brain is having trouble rectifying that with the fact of it happening.

“What are big brothers for?” Dick says. 

It feels like it takes forever for Jason’s gaze to reach Dick’s face, but he manages to catch the tail-end of the look Dick gives him, the dark glint in his suffocatingly, deep blue eyes.

There is no way it means what he wants it to mean. Dick thinks of him as a kid; worse... as a brother. But it makes him shiver and whine internally anyway.

When they arrive, Dick keeps him upright as they climb the stairs because of course when Dick left, he refused to touch Bruce’s money and he lives on the third floor of a shithole with no elevator. It’s still nicer than any of the places Jason lived before he moved to the manor, but not by much.

Jason teeters to the sagging brown corduroy sofa as Dick locks up behind them, and flops onto it, closing his eyes to stop the room from spinning. He only opens them again at the press of something cold against his lips.

Dick is grinning down at him, holding a frosty bottle of vodka in his face. 

He was just gonna go to bed. But he doesn’t know if anyone in history has ever resisted Dick when he gives that mischievous look. It brightens his handsome face and makes him look younger. Leading the Titans since they were Jason’s age must have been and still be crazy stressful. And just because Dick wears stress well, doesn’t mean it isn’t nice to see him when he isn’t feeling the weight of his responsibilities. 

The smile he gives his predecessor feels lazy, even to him, but he takes a sip when Dick uncaps it and pushes the opening back to his lips.

Time moves in a weird serpentine haze. Jason knows he talks. Or rather, that he rambles; that Dick talks less, choosing to listen intently. Did Jason just mention that he’s had a crush on Dick since the first time the older boy started bossing him around on that rooftop? Or did he just think about it for a second while he watched Dick’s lips wrap around the nozzle of the bottle?

He blinks and half the bottle is gone. 

He blinks again and someone is lifting him into the air like he weighs nothing. 

Chin hooked over a broad shoulder, Jason watches the stained carpet pass under where his bare feet bob in the air, legs spread to either side of the hips of the person carrying him. He’s vaguely aware of a big hand cupped around and under his ass. The fingertips grazing his balls might be accidental, but it makes Jason’s already warm face flush hotter and he tries to bury his embarrassment in thick muscle.

The next thing he knows, his back hits a mattress and he bounces a couple times. It takes every shred of willpower he can scrape up in his drunken stupor to not vomit. 

Something fumbles with his jeans briefly before they’re tugged off of him. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he figures Dick is helping him get to bed to sleep off his ill-advised night out.

Then warm fingers brush against his hips, making the muscles in his belly leap, as they hook under the elastic band of his boxer-briefs. 

Jason hears a small, squeak of a sound as his underwear are yanked off and realizes, belatedly, that the noise comes from his own throat.

By the time the realization hits, there are already warm lips mouthing wetly up his torso. Everything feels like it’s simultaneously happening in slow motion but also way too fast to process. He shoves weakly at the luscious head of black hair over his chest when teeth start to nip at his nipple. The room is too hot, and Jason is too sensitive. Every place where skin meets skin is lit on fire, the nerves tingling up and down his body.

“N… wait…” Jason stutters, trying to find the right combination of words. 

“You said you wanted me,” Dick’s smooth, melodic voice washes over Jason, making him shiver. “I’m going to space in a few days. It’s now or never.”

Did Jason say that? He certainly thinks it often enough. 

Heat rushes to the surface of his skin at the thought that he might have actually told his predecessor his deep, dark secret.

In his heart, Jason has always known it wasn’t an option. Dick would never look at him like that. He was lucky if Dick looked at him at all. Jason always figured that, at best, Dick was indifferent to him. They didn’t hang out or talk; the times Jason had helped the Titans, Dick either wasn’t around or barely spoke to him, and when he did, it was with a carefully neutral tone. At worst, Jason wondered if Dick, on some level, hated or resented him for the way Bruce had fired the first Robin and turned around and brought on Jason.

Dick had never mentioned it. But the way he seemed to try to avoid Jason made it seem, to Jason anyway, that being around him was hard. Even if Jason hadn’t known anything about it until well after the fact (until he overheard Bruce and Dick shouting and made Bruce come clean). 

But even in the best-case scenario, Dick is still way out of Jason’s league. The pedestal Bruce has put Dick on is well earned and too high for Jason to ever reach, no matter how much he grows or how good he gets. Someone as amazing as Dick deserves someone like Superman or Starfire. Not someone like Jason. 

Jason grunts when Dick rolls his hips down, rubbing their cocks against each other and Jason doesn’t know when the older boy stripped but the feeling of Dick’s warm, naked skin makes him shiver and sigh happily. 

“That’s it, little wing,” Dick hums, hands hooking under Jason’s knees and pushing forward until Jason’s thighs are pressed against his own chest. Then Dick uses one forearm to keep Jason folded in half, while his other hand drops to lightly drag fingertips over Jason’s hole. “Just relax for me.”

And Jason does. It’s so easy to get lost in Dick’s voice; to give into something Jason’s wanted for so long that he can’t decide if this is really happening or just a dream. 

“There you go,” Dick purrs again, “So good at following instruction. Perfect, obedient, little soldier. Just like he wanted.”

That makes Jason frown, but he can’t figure out why. He doesn’t get the chance to try to work through it, either, because Dick dips a dry finger into him, just the first knuckle, and every touch receptor in his body jolts to life. 

He gasps and spasms in pleasure; turns his head to the side to moan into the pillow as he twists one hand in the sheets and gets a weak death grip on Dick’s arm with the other.

“W...wait,” Jason says, or tries to say, still struggling with finding the right words and forcing them out. 

He never thought he would actually get to be with Dick. But in his fantasies, it never happened like this. He doesn’t want it to happen _like this_. He wants it to be… special. Maybe even a little cliché and cheesy. Drunken and/or sketchy one-nighters are locked firmly in the “pre-Bruce” part of his memory, a place he doesn’t particularly like to visit if he can help it. They’re not special; in fact, they’re the opposite of special. He’s had plenty of those. But _Dick_ is _special_ and Jason always fantasized about taking Dick to a movie and making out in the back row or making him dinner at Titans tower and getting frisky watching late night television or hooking up in costume on rooftops when Bruce wasn’t paying attention.

At some point, Dick must have retrieved lube and slicked up his fingers because the one that slides all the way into Jason does so very easily. 

Jason _whines_ and instantly loses his train of thought. He can’t really move in this position, but his reflexes didn’t get that message and he tries to meet the slow drag of Dick’s single finger as the older boy leisurely moves it in and out. 

“You don’t really want me to stop, do you?” Dick rumbles, slipping a second finger past Jason’s rim at a truly glacial pace that makes Jason’s toes curl in the air over his head. “

Jason all but sobs, desperation for _more_ spreading through his core like wildfire and torching any remaining concern. He’s never been touched like this; this gently; like _he’s_ special; like he’s worth the time, worth making feel good. Like he’s more than just a sex toy. Jason shakes his head vigorously, barely noticing the way his curls bounce across his forehead, but the motion does make him have to squeeze his eyes shut to stop the room from spinning again.

Lips press to the sensitive skin at the back of his knee in a gentle kiss before nipping sharply. At the same time, Dick spreads his fingers wide, making Jason choke and sending a shudder down his spine. 

When Dick presses them back in, he adds a third. Jason moans and tries to wriggle his legs down or open, anything to ground himself with the sight of Dick’s face. 

But the older boy resists Jason’s weak, drunken flailing, and pins him firmly to the mattress and he’s turned away. 

It could be seconds or hours later, Jason doesn’t know, he lost track of time forever ago, but _finally_ Dick shifts his position onto his knees. He hooks Jason’s feet over his shoulders while he lines up his cock with Jason’s entrance, then he grips Jason’s ankles and bends him in half again. Only this time Dick pushes him further, literally in half, until his toes sink into the pillow over his head. 

It’s not a comfortable position, but it’s one that Jason can hold for a long time if he needs to. Flexibility is important for Robin, so Jason puts in the work to master that, just like everything else. He’d like to one day be boneless, like Dick, but he knows that may never happen. All he wants is to do Robin justice. To make Dick proud. So that maybe in the future Dick will look back and think he was a worthy successor. 

He shouts in surprise and a little pain when, still not looking at his face--still staring down at his hole--Dick snaps his hips forward, burying himself in one brutal thrust. 

* * *

Dick wets his lips right before he impales his replacement on his cock. He’s _just_ inebriated enough to take a small amount of satisfaction from the pained twist of the punk’s face when he glances up at the cry.

He doesn’t bother giving the kid time to adjust. Hell, he debated on whether he should even bother prepping him. The booze keeps him relaxed. 

And it’s not like Dick got any preparation for Jason barging in and taking something he had no right to. No one gave Dick time to adjust. 

He pulls out as far as he can and slams back in as hard as he can. The smack of their skin meeting is so loud it almost drowns out Jason’s loud yelp. 

Dick does it again.

He sets a punishing pace. 

Punishing Jason for having the gall to take what was rightfully Dick’s. Having the guts to look up to him, to _want_ him.

Punishing Bruce for ending their long partnership with a bullshit excuse just to turn around and _adopt_ a golden boy who follows orders and never questions the all-powerful Bat. 

Punishing himself for being mad at Jason even though Dick knows it has nothing to do with him, for taking it out on the brat now.

It feels _good_ though. Ruining something Bruce thinks is pure. Hurting something that has caused him pain.

Something in the back of his mind tells him he should stop; that he should have never started; that he should have tucked Jason in on the sofa and left the vodka in the freezer. 

But a much larger part of him says he deserves this. Jason is cute and eager and awed by Dick. Even before the kid told Dick about his little crush, Dick knew. It was painfully obvious. Dick deserves to get something out of this shit situation that has been forced on him the last few years.

Jason deserves this too. Dick tries to convince himself that it’s entirely because the kid has had a rough life and because he’s a good kid who deserves good things. He should be able to have the guy he likes. 

But the way the brat’s knuckles turn white with how hard his hands are clinging to the sheets, the way he grinds his teeth together and hisses through them, the way a tear slips out now and then from behind eyelids squeezed shut… 

It floods Dick’s already vodka drenched mind with dopamine and adrenaline and before he knows it, he’s putting all his weight on Jason’s ankles, forcing him into an even more extreme bend. He shivers at the thought that his handprints will be bruised into Jason’s skin for days, at least. He grips impossibly tighter. Maybe even weeks.

Tears are streaming down the kid’s face now. His eyes are open but glazed and heavily lidded. The intensity of the position, as well as the length he’s held it while Dick mercilessly drives into him over and over again, has made Jason’s breathing labored between the soft little sounds being punched out of him.

Jason’s head lolls to the side. Dick sees the exact moment he passes out. 

Stopping never even crosses his mind. For some reason, the knowledge that his replacement is soft and pliable and at his mercy sends a thrill through him. 

He pulls Jason’s legs up a bit to cross them before pressing them back down as far as they’ll go again. Dick finds himself mildly impressed with the runt’s flexibility.

When he comes, it’s the best orgasm of his life. He gives his own shout, pushes Jason down while he thrusts up to get that extra sliver of depth, then spills into the tight, hot clench around him. 

He takes a moment to catch his breath and gaze at the tear-streaked face in front of him. When he’s sleeping, Jason looks so young and peaceful and not at all like the homewrecker he is. 

Dick watches his come trickle out of Jason’s puffy, red hole and licks his lips again. 

Christ, he’s still so fucking _hard_.

He lets go of Jason’s legs and they drop like weights onto the bed. 

It looks like he must’ve accidentally hit Jason’s prostate a few times, because the brat is hard too.

With a mean smirk to himself, Dick leans forward and fishes around in the drawer of his nightstand until he finds what he’s looking for. 

The cockring fits snuggly around Jason’s cock and balls. He won’t be getting off tonight. 

On a whim, Dick grabs his phone off the nightstand too and turns on the camera. He takes a few pictures, lifting Jason’s legs again to get a couple of his handiwork between them, before turning on the video recording. 

His bedroom already has cameras. For security purposes like the windows and doors, of course. But also, personal ones, for fun. They were actually Barbara’s idea, but Dick had really taken to them and most of his partners have enjoyed them too. But while the one in the head and foot boards, as well as each of the four posts, usually catch excellent images, nothing compares to the up close and personal of his phone. 

Jason doesn’t stir as Dick smirks at the camera in the headboard and crawls up his body. Or as he pries open Jason’s mouth. Or when he shoves his dick in until it’s curved down into Jason’s throat. 

Jason doesn’t wake as Dick starts fucking his face. He can’t stop looking at the screen of his phone, watching as his cock sinks between those plush lips and emerging again. It’s still extremely hot, even if Dick keeps his thrusts shallow and tries not to smack his hips into Jason’s nose and chin too often.

It’d be a shame if the punk woke up before Dick could do all the things he’s planning. 

For that same reason, he decides it’s best to not risk Jason choking on his come. So, he pulls out and spills all over that cute, innocent face. 

After that he has to wait a little to recover. He checks the video to make sure he captured his money shot. Then refocuses the phone and spends the wait pinching and pulling and biting at the enticing pink nipples; picking out his biggest vibrator and watching Jason squirm and whimper on it as he sleeps. Dick pins him down when he tries to wriggle away and stops him from rubbing his face into the pillow and wiping off all the come still drying. 

By the time he’s ready to go again, he’s sure his release has fully dried and he flips the kid onto his belly. He tucks Jason’s knees up under him so that his hips are tilted up and his ass is in the air. 

This time, Dick films his cock pressing to Jason’s stretched, used hole and pushing in. This time he catches every thrust, every slide of his dick, every stretch of that furled rim, every muscle flinch in Jason’s back, every sleepy, breathless whine.

He gets rough again, unable to resist pounding into Jason harder every time the kid clenches involuntarily around him. 

Still, Jason doesn’t wake. Dick thanks the alcohol, tightens his one-handed grip on Jason’s hip until he’s sure it’ll bruise, and drives his hips against his replacement’s ass viciously. 

The loud slap of skin gives Dick an idea. 

Before what little of his rational mind is left to him can object, he smacks the kid’s perky little ass hard enough to leave a red handprint and echo through the quiet room.

Jason yelps and tries to shift away in his sleep but again, Dick doesn't let him go.

He slaps him in the same spot over and over again, his rough, brutal pace never wavering as he keeps fucking away, before he switches to the other cheek.

When he feels his climax approaching, he almost pulls out to come all over Jason’s back and ass. 

At the last minute he changes his mind, burying himself again and coming deep inside the kid who took his place. 

He keeps recording as he pulls out; as he presses his thumb to the abused rim of Bruce’s _son_ \--something Dick never got to be--and pulls it open just enough for some of Dick’s release to leak out.

Then he turns it off and puts it back on the nightstand before settling against the headboard to recover again.

He’ll make sure he gets a few pictures at the end of the night. For now, he plans on savoring the next few experiences. 

* * *

Waking up is a feat.

Before he even opens his eyes, Jason is groaning in misery. His head is _pounding,_ and he feels stiff. Like he’s been laying in one position too long.

The moment he tries to move he realizes it’s worse than stiffness.

He tries to sit up and an undignified squeak of pain and discomfort escapes before he can stop it. 

His muscles _ache_. Worse than they do after a long night of fighting bad guys and leaping off rooftops to swing through skyscrapers on a line.

Forcing himself, Jason manages to sit up, immediately grimacing at the sharp sting when he puts weight on his ass. 

There is an extremely uncomfortable wetness between his buttcheeks and a _deep,_ throbbing ache that he is unfortunately familiar with. 

It just doesn’t make sense that it would happen now. Now he’s Robin and he doesn’t need to do that anymore; he can defend himself if anyone ever tries to make him again; and if he’s ever in over his head, he has people who will protect him now. Superheroes who will keep him safe. Batman and Nightwing--

_Dick!_

The night before comes to him in bits. He only vaguely remembers Dick picking him up from the party. He remembers Dick smiling at him on the sofa and thinking it was one of the most beautiful things he’s ever seen; thinking how awesome it was that _he_ made Dick smile like that. 

_I’m going to space in a few days. It’s now or never._

Jason swallows hard and it hurts. There’s a gross, salty aftertaste on his tongue that he also recognizes, and his throat is dry and sore, like he’s used it too much.

He shudders. He doesn’ remember that. But he does remember Dick on top of him, pinning him to the bed, asking if he wants him to stop. Or... Dick telling him he doesn’t really want Dick to stop...?

He tries to shake his head but that just makes the room spin. 

Dick wouldn’t… he’s a good person. The best, really. Dick wouldn’t… 

Jason looks down at the bruises and dried come littered all over his body; at the dark ring of bruises around his ankles. 

He must have… he must have agreed. Dick would have asked, and he definitely wouldn’t have done anything if Jason didn’t consent to it first. Dick is a good person.

A small voice in the back of his head says that it shouldn’t have mattered. That he was drunk and too young, and Dick should have known better. 

But it’s drowned out by a much louder voice that points out that Dick had been drinking too. That Jason has wanted to be with Dick for years and it never really mattered that Dick was too old for him right now. 

Despite the logic of that, he can’t stop himself from trembling. Or stop the tears starting to cloud his vision. Or the feeling of… betrayal. Of being used. 

Stubbornly, Jason wipes away the tears. He can’t be mad at Dick for doing something Jason wanted and probably agreed to. That wouldn’t be fair. 

He looks around for any sign of his predecessor and finds nothing until the screen of his phone lights up, drawing his attention to the nightstand. 

It’s 12:04pm and Jason has 24 missed calls from Bruce, 7 from Alfred, and dozens of texts from both, demanding to know where he is and increasing in terrified concern as they go. 

Then Jason sees the note, folded in half and standing like a tent with a quickly scribbled “J” on the front in Dick’s handwriting.

His hand trembles a little as he picks it up and opens it.

> _Left for space._
> 
> _Didn’t get a chance to talk to Bruce. Good luck with that._
> 
> _You can use the shower and borrow some clothes. DON’T EAT MY FOOD!_
> 
> _P.S. Wash the sheets before you leave. They’re filthy._

Jason stares at the hurried words for long minutes, trying to make his brain understand. They’re so… _cold_.

He jumps when his phone pings. 

Another desperate, worried text from Bruce. 

Taking a few deep breaths to steady himself, Jason sends Bruce a response saying he and Dick hung out last night, he thought Dick had mentioned it, he’s in Bludhaven and needs a ride because Dick had to run off on a Titans emergency. And that he’s sorry. 

He’s positive he’ll be in a heap of trouble for scaring Bruce like this. 

Jason gives himself a few minutes to gather himself. Then, with a wince, he gets off the bed. 

He needs to get everything cleaned up. Whether Jason wanted to be intimate with Dick or not, Bruce won’t understand.

The pedestal Bruce has Dick on is well deserved. And Bruce misunderstands and bumps Dick off of it because of Jason… Dick would probably never speak to him (or Bruce) again. 

He can’t live with that.


End file.
